


Cold Hands, Warm Feet

by SilverCyanide (LemonFairy)



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 02:30:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12878289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonFairy/pseuds/SilverCyanide
Summary: Atobe didn't expect for it to escalate this way, but he finds there is nothing he can do with his feeling for Tezuka Kunimitsu except confess.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pair: Onesided Ato/Tez  
> Info: Takes place during U-17 before Tezuka leaves.  
> A/N: it's been years since I've written for tenipuri, but I never stopped loving it. Anyway: I'm not great at Atobe, so CC is appreciated. This will be chaptered following up with Niou/Tezuka-Atobe (also U-17).

The lights are down on the courts, but Atobe doesn’t mind. Technically he is out after practice hours, working on a new shot. And, perhaps more importantly, trying to clear his mind.

Atobe is not a stranger to his own emotions. Far from it: he can catalog and identify each one, putting even the messiest ones away in clean boxes. But his feelings on Tezuka have always been particularly troublesome, even before they morphed into a crush, and Atobe finds that is still true now. 

_ Tezuka _ . Just thinking about the other teen is enough to fluster Atobe. Atobe had hoped camp would desensitize him to Tezuka’s presence; instead, the opposite had happened. Now every glance between them bruns like fire in the pit of Atobe’s stomach. It’s strong enough that he’s had uncomfortable dreams the past few nights, and is more than grateful he’s currently rooming alone. Sticky sheets aren’t a secret he wants to share with anyone.

Atobe catches the ball on its next return from the wall. The dark spot he’s created tells him it’s time to pack it in. He leans over his bag, taking a drink from his water bottle. Suddenly, he hears the unmistakable thump of approaching footsteps. Atobe looks up. 

Speak of the goddamn devil: it’s Tezuka himself, out for a jog. His eyes are closed, as if it’s been too much strain to face the light any longer, and it allows Atobe a long moment to just look. The perfectly carved features of Tezuka’s face, the peace across his features when he’s practically resting, makes Atobe swallow, hard. 

Then, feeling Atobe’s eyes on him, Tezuka opens his own and returns the gaze. Atobe nods. Tezuka gives the slightest quirk of his lips. He slows his jog to a walk, then a stop, waiting for Atobe to emerge from the court. 

There is something that Atobe thinks of as fondness in Tezuka’s eyes. It is subtle, but it is unmistakably there. Atobe holds off a genuine smile as he packs his bag, then exits the court so that he can walk next to Tezuka. 

Tezuka resumes jogging, but his pace is leisurely. Atobe appreciates the cool down. Finally, when they are almost back at the dorms, the pair slows down into a walk. Atobe can see Tezuka out of the corner of his eye. The silence between them feels comfortable. Atobe thinks, perhaps, they’ve become friends. 

Atobe stops walking. Tezuka continues. Atobe swallows. He knows time is running short: knows Tezuka has been recruited by Germany, knows he is just biding his time with the Japanese team. Tezuka could choose to leave tomorrow if he wanted, for bigger and brighter things, and Atobe would have nothing to show for it. 

“Tezuka.” Atobe’s voice is low and steady, exactly how he wants it. Tezuka pauses and glances over his shoulder, just enough to meet Atobe’s gaze. 

“I… have a fondness for you.” It is the best way Atobe can phrase his admission. The words still sound vulnerable, almost pathetic, to his ears. But he has finally said them to another human being. 

Tezuka is painfully silent. Then, he turns away from Atobe all together.

“My apologies, Atobe-san.”

Atobe has done his best, prior, to quash any hope surrounding his feelings for Tezuka. The pain in his chest and the burn in his throat now remind Atobe that he was not entirely successful. 

Tezuka walks away. Despite Tezuka’s back to hi, Atobe wishes the ground could swallow him up, like quicksand beneath his feet, so that he simply cannot feel. 

Only when Tezuka’s footsteps have completely faded does Atobe move. His first steps are shaky, like he’s just been running miles. But after stumbling, he rights himself--shoulders pulled back, head held high--and heads back toward his dorm room. 

The next time he approaches Tezuka, it is like nothing has ever happened between them. All friendliness is lost to his cool exterior, and Tezuka is nothing but business. It makes Atobe’s heart twinge, but he pushes it down and dutifully goes back to tennis. After all, things have always been tennis between them.

And that’s all they’ll ever be. 


	2. Warm Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue and outcomes ripped directly from episode 10 of the shin anime.

Tezuka plays Yamato-san the very next day. Even with the rejection, Atobe feels a familiar thrill shoot through him at the prospect of watching Tezuka play. It may be more than admiration, but Tezuka’s form is pure strength and grace in a way no one can match for Atobe. 

Atobe can tell the moment it starts to go south. Tezuka’s skeletal system practically flashes before his eyes, and Atobe sees the incoming damage. He feels it in his own joints, a kind of sympathy pain that sprints through him for the briefest of moments.

“Tezuka! Don’t push yourself too hard! What’ll you do if you hurt your arm again?” The words slip out unbidden, but Atobe absolutely means them. Their win in these matches is not worth Tezuka’s future: Atobe is sure of this. What he is not sure of is when he started caring more about Tezuka than victory.

As if queued, Tezuka grips his elbow. It doesn’t look bad, and Tezuka’s stoicism can cover much of the pain. That doesn’t stop Atobe from seeing how quickly Tezuka’s arm is approaching its limit. 

Before Atobe can protest again, Yamato-san begins to speak. His words aren’t loud, but the stands are deathly silent. Atobe hears every syllable. 

Then Yamato-san pulls up the sleeve of his jersey to reveal a gruesome surgery scar. Atobe winces just looking at it, but the sympathy pain hits Tezuka far harder. Even when his shoulder was at breaking point, Tezuka did not look this way: eyes wide, mouth dipped open, so completely paralyzed. He is, Atobe realizes, seeing one path of his future. Atobe’s stomach churns. 

“Tezuka!” he calls, almost desperate. Tezuka looks over his shoulder, expression still open and wounded. Atobe continues, “You’re not the only one who can be a pillar. Have a little faith in us.” 

Tezuka swallows. “Everyone. . . will you let me enjoy tennis a little more?”

It is a request that Atobe has no business refusing. 

When he throws himself back into the match, it is a spectacular sight. Tezuka is practically an illusion, a phantom returning invisible balls, hitting back at every one of Yamato-san’s weak spots. 

_ Tezuka, you… _ Atobe can sense the gate unlocking before it even happens. The aura pouring off Tezuka shifts. It is unlike anything Atobe has ever witnessed. The strength behind his teni muhou no kiwami is blinding: Atobe can hardly keep himself from grinning like a maniac. His heart feels ready to burst, witnessing this glory from such an incredible man.

It is then that Atobe knows what he must do when the match ends. As Tezuka and Yamato-san shake hands, Atobe waits just off court. 

“You want to go to Germany, don’t you?” Atobe already knows the answer. “Go and become a professional already.”

“Atobe…” Tezuka’s expression is shocked, wide open. Atobe smirks.

“I’ll follow you soon enough.”

The words’ full meaning come through. Then, Tezuka graces Atobe with the greatest gift he has ever received: a look of fiery determination and a smile. Atobe feels his heart flip three ways to Sunday. 

Perhaps, just perhaps, things will be all right.


End file.
